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One moment alone in the garden,
Under the August skies;
The moon had gone, but the stars shone on, -
Shone like your beautiful eyes.
Away from the glitter and gaslight,
Alone in the garden there,
While the mirth of the throng, in laugh and song,
Floated out on the air.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
In lands I never saw -- they say
Immortal Alps look down --
Whose bonnets touch the firmament --
Whose sandals touch the town --
Meek at whose everlasting feet
A myriad daisy play --
Which, Sir, are you and which am I
Upon an August day?
"In August, the large masses of berries, which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees, gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, and by their weight again bent down and broke their tender limbs."
Henry David Thoreau
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Listening Practice 24/7
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Books and Poetry
Read any good books recently?